


"... So?"

by SaltySweetLicorice



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 16 is Age of Consent, Body Appreciation, Body Worship, Bottom Derek, Chubby Derek, Fat Shaming, First Time, Insecure Derek, M/M, Minor come play, Oblivious Stiles, Top Stiles, high school!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-26
Updated: 2014-04-26
Packaged: 2018-01-20 19:56:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1523651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltySweetLicorice/pseuds/SaltySweetLicorice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles is sixteen and head over heels in love with Derek, however, it’s been six months and they haven’t done more than kissing and he has yet to see his gorgeously hot boyfriend shirtless. Stiles figures the reason for Derek’s shyness might be that he’s slowly easing himself into the whole ‘intimacy with boys’ thing, but a run-in with bullies during date-night reveals the source of Derek’s insecurities to be something else entirely: his weight.</p>
            </blockquote>





	"... So?"

**Author's Note:**

> I normally don’t like to give too much away in tags, but I figure I might have actually written something that could possibly trigger people, so I shall repeat myself just in case: this fic, while all about body appreciation, does include weight insecurities and weight-shaming, as well as descriptions of chubby characters, so if you don’t like or can’t read this, please don’t.

Stiles Stilinski is in love. It’s the kind of love that he wants to shout from the mountaintop, the love that sometimes leaves him breath- and sleepless, the love that causes so many butterflies in his stomach that sometimes he forgets to eat because he just isn’t hungry, all because he’s busy thinking about him – Derek.

Stiles is sixteen, Derek is seventeen, a Senior to Stiles’ Junior in High School. Derek is Stiles’ first boyfriend and first relationship, Stiles is Derek’s second relationship and first boyfriend. Stiles believes Derek hung the moon and Derek thinks Stiles poops rainbows – at least according to their respective friends and families, who are watching the epic romance between the two of them unfold with fond amusement.

Stiles loves everything about Derek. He loves his dry humor, his rare but brilliant smiles, the way family means everything for him, and his determination on the football field. They have dated for a little over half a year and they haven’t gone ‘all the way’ yet. In fact, Stiles has even yet to see Derek shirtless, although he’s definitely contemplated hiding in the football team’s locker room just so he can ogle his hot boyfriend in secret – a plan that was axed by his best friend Scott, who looked at him like he was a pervert. Stiles likes to say their lack of intimate action stems from Derek being weirdly shy and he wants to give him all the time he needs, but really, he’s pretty much convinced it’s actually because he himself is scared out of his mind.

He’s scared he won’t be any good and Derek won’t like it – he’s seen some really weird porn and although Lydia whacked him over the head and chastised him for believing porn is real, Stiles is still concerned that maybe Derek has seen the same porn and will actually expect him to get into the strangest positions while making guttural noises.

He’s scared he won’t be able to read Derek’s body language, won’t notice if Derek doesn’t like something, which would make him a really insensitive boyfriend who should be broken up with immediately.

On his weakest days, he’s even scared that Derek will take one look at his gangly, mole-freckled self and run the other way. Stiles has muscle definition – well he thinks he does, considering he can help his dad lift some pretty heavy stuff – but he’s nothing compared to the hunks Derek hangs out with at football practice. He is also very much aware that Derek is a lot hotter than him but then again, his jock boyfriend is dating Stiles despite his awkward, book-loving ways, so it is probably unfair to accuse Derek of being shallow enough to leave him for his physical insecurities.

But these aren’t thoughts Stiles spends too much time pondering, for the most part he is way too busy being in love with Derek, who actually loves him back and that’s just all kinds of awesome.

Tonight is date night – because they’re being romantic and that should always be a thing, no matter how old you are – and Derek has taken Stiles to a 1950s style diner in a town about forty-five miles away from where they live. He swears it has the best milkshakes and homemade pie on this side of the country and it’s because of the pie that Stiles essentially doesn’t have a curfew tonight. Of course he had to promise his father that they’d at least try to make it home sometime around midnight, but the prospect of his son bringing home a whole cherry pie was enough of a motivating factor for the Sheriff to be more or less ok with Derek taking his son on a date-night that’s at least an hour away.

Derek, as it turns out, has impeccable taste in restaurants. Not that that’s a surprise, considering they always enjoy the food at the places Derek picks. In fact, he picks the restaurant almost every time and has done so ever since the curly fries debacle four months ago, also known as ‘The Incident Where Stiles Tried to Kill his Boyfriend with Food Poisoning, But at Least the Curly Fries Were Tasty’.

The burgers are juicy and savory, the fries perfectly crispy, and the milkshakes are just the right mixture between creamy and fluffy, the taste not too sweet and no trace of artificial flavoring. Derek orders a cherry pie to go for Stiles’ father, insists upon paying for it and then gets a large slice of pecan pie for himself and a slice of blueberry pie for Stiles.

Stiles can’t help it and sneaks a forkful of pecan pie away from Derek’s plate while he is talking to the waitress, moaning with delight as the rich flavor hits his taste buds. Derek turns back to him at the sound and his perfect smile lights up his features, his eyes shining with affection as Stiles tries to look innocent. Derek reaches over and lightly scrapes a bit of the sticky pecan paste from the corner of Stiles’ mouth, effectively catching him in the act. He puts the fingers into his mouth and sucks it clean, the image doing all kinds of things for Stiles and he crosses his legs under the table so Derek won’t notice and become nervous. Not that Stiles wouldn’t want Derek to notice how much he wants him, but he’s fiercely determined to respect Derek’s boundaries and slowly ease him into the whole ‘intimacy with boys’ thing – he just assumes that’s where Derek’s hesitation comes from, considering his first relationship was with a girl.

After a few bites of his blueberry pie Stiles admits surrender. He probably shouldn’t have had that forkful of Derek’s pecan pie; as tasty as it was, the richness of it has made him pretty full almost instantly and besides, he still has a third of his strawberry milkshake left and it would be a shame to waste it.

He nudges his plate towards Derek, who is already finished with his pie. “Lightweight,” he teases and Stiles pats his milkshake-belly in mock-protest. “We can’t all be football players,” he grins and Derek rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, fork already digging into the blueberry pie. Stiles watches him eat the pie and his heart fills with affection when he sees the blueberry filling that stains Derek’s lips and mouth after he’s done. It’s perfectly reasonable that he as a good boyfriend shouldn’t let Derek go outside like that, lest people think he can’t eat properly and he leans across the table, one hand coming up to grab Derek’s face and guiding their mouths together. His tongue darts out playfully, tracing along Derek’s lips to lick up the remnants of the pie filling before demanding entrance.

Derek tastes like blueberry and cherry milkshake, he tastes like home and comfort, and if Stiles were being especially poetic, he’d say that Derek tastes like the smell of the air after it has rained. He makes the comparison because that’s his favorite smell in the world and Derek is pretty much getting to be his favorite person in the world, even though his Dad and best friend Scott are quite awesome as well.

In short, Stiles is happy; he’s sated, and he’s kissing Derek, so really, there is not much that could make this evening any better.

Derek pays for the rest of their food and they get up to leave. It’s still pretty warm despite the fact that it’s almost 9 pm in late October and Stiles figures they can probably walk around the town a little bit. The downtown area is really pretty and after all that milkshake he needs the fresh air or else he is going to fall asleep as soon as Derek starts the drive home.

Derek is holding the big to-go box for the pie and they step into the parking lot, intending to put the pie in the car before taking their little walk. They are almost at the car when the sound of snorting laughter fills the air and somebody yells: “Oink, oink!”

Stiles keeps walking, not even realizing that the three guys leaning against a pick-up truck close to Derek’s Camaro are talking to them, but Derek has frozen on the spot, hands clutching the pie-box.

“You sure you need to take home another whole pie little piggy? Looks like you already ate half the restaurant.”

Derek lowers his head and continues walking, brushing past Stiles without even looking at him, opening the trunk and depositing the pie before slamming the lid shut. He rests his hands on the trunk and Stiles can see that they’re shaking.

Incredulously he turns towards the three guys.

“Excuse me? Are you talking to us?”

“How many beached whales did you just see walking by holding on to their pie like it was the Holy Grail. Of course I’m talking to you guys, dumbass.”

Stiles turns to look at his boyfriend, an expression of confusion on his face and he freezes when he gets a good look at Derek’s face.

His gorgeous boyfriend looks like he’s on the verge of crying; his eyes are brimming with tears and he’s biting his lip. Stiles immediately sees red. It’s the first time he’s ever seen Derek close to crying and now shit is going to go down, because no one, _no one_ , is allowed to make his boyfriend cry.

He turns back to the three guys sharply and marches over, a thunderous expression on his face.

“I don’t know who you are and what makes you think you can talk to my boyfriend like that – who is fucking gorgeous by the way, you bastard – but if anyone is a pig here it’s not him, it’s you!” he snarls and the one that’s been doing all the talking straightens up and takes a step towards Stiles. “Careful who you’re calling a pig here, you chubby-chasing little twink,” he hisses and before Stiles can say anything else Derek is suddenly grabbing his arm and tugging him away from the older guys.

“Saved by the bell – the dinner bell, get it?” The guys are howling with laughter and Stiles bristles as Derek all but shoves him into the car, gets in on his side and slams the door shut.

Nope, Stiles doesn’t get it, finds it neither funny nor clever and he turns towards Derek, ready to comment as such. Derek still has that upset look on his face, only now he’s also got angry red splotches all across his neck and cheeks, indicating that he’s upset _and_ embarrassed. Wanting to comfort him, although not a hundred percent sure for _what_ , Stiles reaches out his hand to squeeze Derek’s wrist – and is shell-shocked when Derek swats him away with a low growl, before starting the car and driving out of the parking lot, the Camaro’s engine finally droning out the laughter of the guys at the pick-up.

The next hour probably makes the top five of worst moments in Stiles’ life. Derek doesn’t speak to him, his posture rigid and his face set in a grim scowl, and after he’s ignored Stiles’ attempts at speaking twice, Stiles just gives up, completely at a loss as to what he did wrong. Derek is clearly furious with him and he has no idea why. Not to mention the fact that he is still having a hard time wrapping his mind around what happened at the parking lot and why Derek reacted so badly.

It if had only been those idiots he would be talking to Stiles now, right? The fact that he doesn’t must mean that Stiles messed up; that he did something to Derek and the thought is enough that Stiles starts freaking out. Derek has never ignored him like this before and Stiles is starting to be afraid that Derek wants to break up with him.

When they get to Stiles’ house it is a little after 10 pm and his father’s cruiser is not parked in the driveway. Normally this would mean that Derek would be allowed to come inside for a bit and they would maybe watch a movie and cuddle on the couch, or just cuddle until his father comes home. But nothing about the end of this evening is normal and Stiles gapes like a fish when Derek gets out of his car, retrieves the pie from the trunk, and thrusts the box at Stiles without even looking at him.

He’s halfway around to the driver’s side when Stiles finally finds his voice again.

“Don’t break up with me,” he whispers, hating himself for sounding so small and insecure. Then again, he’s extremely insecure right now because he still has no clue how they went from a wonderful date to _this_.

Derek freezes. He finally looks at Stiles and the expression on his face is half disbelief, half embarrassed fury.

“You think I want to be with someone who mocks me?” he asks, slamming his already opened door shut again and walking back around the car, stopping right in front of Stiles.

“Huh?” Stiles gets out, cursing himself for this less than eloquent rebuttal.

“What are you talking about? When did I mock you? I don’t know what’s going on?”

He sounds helpless, but Derek is too furious to notice.

“Of course you mocked me back in that parking lot. When you said I was gorgeous, when you said that other guy looked like a pig and not me,” he grits out and now Stiles is really lost.

“What? Why are you looking like a pig? You don’t look like a pig! Why do you even think you look like a pig? When did I say the other guy looked like a pig? I meant that he behaved like a stupid asshole, who’s even talking about appearances? Derek?” he rushes out and finally his distress seems to get through Derek’s haze of fury, because some of the fire goes out of his eyes and he slumps his shoulders, his arms coming up to hug himself.

“They made fun of me because I was carrying that pie,” he mumbles and Stiles breathes out in relief. Finally they are talking about how stupid these guys were, he can handle that, has a lot to say about it, in fact.

“Yeah, I mean what the hell? Why would they even say anything about that? Guys carry pies like all the time, right? Man, those guys were so stupid!”

He trails off, his confidence leaving him when Derek’s expression closes up again.

“You know exactly why they said it,” he says bitterly and now Stiles is getting a bit angry because no, he doesn’t know why they said that, if he did, they wouldn’t be having this conversation and he is really beginning to hate this conversation.

“No Derek, I don’t. I’m obviously missing something here, so can you please tell me what the hell is wrong, because I’m freaking out here thinking that I have done something terrible to you and I don’t. know. what!”

“Of course you know,” Derek whispers and he sounds so hurt, so defeated that Stiles resolutely sets the pie down on the ground, closes the space between them and wraps his arms around the older boy, deeply saddened when he notices Derek tense at his touch. He steps back so he can hold Derek at arm’s length and cups his face, his brown eyes boring into Derek’s green ones.

“No Derek. I don’t. I really, really, really don’t, I promise. The only way it would make sense was if you were actually fat and even then it would be super mean. But you aren’t, so …” he trails of when Derek looks down, his cheeks coloring in embarrassment.

Something finally clicks in Stiles’ head and he looks at his boyfriend in disbelief.

“Hold on!” he says, aware that his voice sounds just as shocked as he feels.

“You think you are … fat? Derek … babe … are you stupid?”

Admittedly, he’s not at his diplomatic best tonight, but he just spent the better part of an hour freaking out that Derek is going to leave him because he defended him the wrong way or something and now Derek’s trying to tell him that terrible silent treatment in the car was because he thinks he’s fat when he clearly isn’t? Yeah, Stiles might possibly find that just a tad ridiculous.

“I’m not fat-fat, I know that,” Derek says with an angry jerk of his head, his arms crossed over his midsection and blocking Stiles’ view.

“But those guys … they called you a chubby-chaser. And I’m definitely that … chubby, I mean. Too chubby, I know that. And you don’t need to make fun of me by pretending that nothing is wrong.”

Stiles is once again gaping like a fish, mouth opening and closing in silent protest.

Derek takes the silence as a cue to go on.

“I know I should lose some weight, but I can still play football ok and yeah, the guys comment on it in the locker room every now and then, but it’s not that bad and I’m not even the heaviest guy on the team and these past couple of months I just really wanted to spend my free time with you and not at the gym, but if you want me to I can definitely do that, I can start right now, I …”

Stiles shakes his head and puts a finger on Derek’s mouth to silence him.

“Stop!” he says and Derek complies, his expression wary and still very hurt.

“Derek – you don’t need to lose weight. Especially not for me, because, in case you haven’t noticed, I’m like completely head over heels for you and I clearly didn’t even notice you had issues with your weight until now. Frankly, I’m a little hurt you’d think me so shallow.”

And he’s definitely hurt, especially when his mind connects the dots and he realizes that maybe, just maybe, Derek isn’t shy about sex because it’s sex with a guy or even sex itself, but because he’s afraid that Stiles is going to take a look at his body and his imagined flaws and walk right out the door. And yes, it might possibly be a bit hypocritical of him to accuse Derek of thinking something like that when he himself had a mole-inspired crisis not too long ago, but he’s going to examine the irony in detail later.

Right now all he can see is Derek, whose eyes are watering again and yeah, that still pierces his heart like the first time he saw it.

“Stiles – I weigh at least forty pounds more than you,” Derek says and Stiles shrugs.

“So?”

“I gained so much weight in such a short amount of time last year after that accident prevented me from training for three months that I’ve got stretch marks on my sides.”

“So?”

“I’ve got a belly and when I sit down I have a muffin-top.”

Stiles raises his eyebrows at that one. “… So?”

“I’m … I’m not nearly as hot as I used to be last year.”

No. Just no. A vehement, head-shaking no.

“In case you didn’t notice it, we’ve only been together for over a half a year, which means that at the time when you were supposedly so much hotter I wasn’t even paying attention to you!” Stiles exclaims, frustration creeping into his voice.

“So what you are telling me is that ever since we got together you haven’t thought that you are hot while I have been jacking off to the thought of finally getting to make love to you _every_ single night? One of us clearly needs to get his head examined and I will give you a hint, it’s _so_ not me.”

He shakes his head, stepping back into Derek’s space and cupping his face again, forcing him to make eye contact. “Derek, I’m so attracted to you I literally can’t walk normally half the time we’re together. I thought you were just too polite to comment on it, but even my _Dad_ noticed that and trust me, that was _not_ a fun conversation to be had.”

Stiles lets his hands wander down Derek’s neck, his shoulders, his broad chest that he just loves to snuggle against, and finally he trails his hands down Derek’s fleshy sides, fingers digging into his waist as he pulls Derek against him so that they are pressed together, Derek’s sturdy body pushing against Stiles’ lanky one.

“I’m so, so, so attracted to you, you just have no idea,” he whispers and he is close enough to hear the click in Derek’s throat when he swallows.

Stiles inhales Derek’s scent, feeling the beginning of an erection pressing against his jeans and for once he doesn’t try to hide it. “I hate that you think these things about yourself, but please get this into that thick brain of yours: when I see you I don’t see a guy who’s fat, or a guy who’s a pig, or even a guy who’s chubby. I see you and you are just so unbelievably gorgeous that I could literally look at you all day long. I’m like this close to signing you up at the local college so you can model naked for the art students, that’s how gorgeous I think you are. Not that I’d do that, mind you, I want you all to myself … all of you just for myself. And I want to see it, touch it, stroke it, kiss it, lick it, worship it, because Derek trust me, I really, really, really want you so badly it hurts.”

Derek is breathing heavily against him and Stiles feels encouraged enough to grab Derek’s hand and push it against his jeans-clad groin, suppressing a groan when the pressure of his boyfriend’s hand adds much-needed friction to his straining erection.

“I love you so much you big idiot. Never scare me like this again,” Stiles breaths and then Derek is kissing him and it makes Stiles’ knees go weak because this is definitely not a normal kiss. It’s a kiss with the promise of a lot more and suddenly Stiles needs him in the house, in his room, and in his bed right now.

They half-walk, half-stumble up to the front porch and Stiles opens the door with minor difficulty, distracted by Derek’s strong hands and soft lips that seem to be everywhere at once. 

Grateful that his father is not at home, Stiles pretty much drags Derek up the stairs to his bedroom, glad that he actually followed his father’s orders to at least pick up all his stuff from the floor before going on his date.

The back of Derek’s knees hit the edge of the bed and he stumbles, falling backwards and taking Stiles with him. They fall onto the bed in a tangle of limbs and Stiles presses his face into Derek’s stomach, muffling his laughter. Despite everything he just said he can feel Derek tense under him, trying to suck in his stomach and Stiles immediately stops laughing. He sits back on his haunches, his legs straddling Derek’s legs and the sight of his boyfriend spread out on the bed in front of him – _for_ him, really – and panting with exertion is the hottest thing he has ever seen. His gaze searches Derek’s and when they make eye contact he grasps the hem of Derek’s shirt and slowly begins to lift it. He’s got it almost up to Derek’s navel when Derek seems to lose his nerve and his hands hold on to Stiles’, stopping his movement. He is shivering and Stiles can’t really tell if he’s afraid or if he is aroused, because that’s definitely the outline of an erection he is beginning to see in Derek’s pants, which, now that he’s actually paying attention, might be just a little too tight.

Luckily, Stiles can definitely think of a way to make Derek forget his fear and he leans down and presses feathery light kisses to Derek’s knuckles, nudging his nose along each wrist, before he slowly moves down and softly kisses Derek’s exposed lower belly.

Derek’s belly is warm and soft, and he still smells like the air after a rainstorm, only it’s slightly sweeter down here. Stiles trails his tongue up the curve of Derek’s stomach and dips it into his belly-button, his hands beginning to move again to push the shirt up further.

Derek’s hands are pliant atop of his and he doesn’t stop him. When he’s reached the extent of his arms’ length, Stiles straightens up again and beckons Derek to lift his arms so he can take off the shirt and Derek complies. As soon as his arms come back down he places them over his chest and upper stomach, hiding these areas, and Stiles makes an impatient sound because now that he’s finally getting to see Derek he wants to see all of him.

He leans over Derek so he can kiss his neck, his hands trailing down the broad shoulders and following along the defined muscles on his strong arms. When his hands have reached Derek’s, he gently squeezes them and slides them down Derek’s sides, uncovering the tanned flesh underneath. It takes a bit of maneuvering, but he manages to coax Derek into resting his hands on the pillow on each side of his head palms up, elbows at shoulder level and bent in a ninety degree angle. It’s like he’s pinning Derek down onto the bed but he still has enough leverage to stop him if he needs to and Stiles stretches out his arms so that his palms are resting atop of Derek’s and he can interlace their fingers. His thumbs are gently rubbing circles into Derek’s as he finally takes in Derek’s upper body in its entirety. His chest is rising and falling rapidly and Stiles rakes his eyes over the pectoral muscles that are just a little bit fleshier than he thought they were, the way his stomach pushes out from under his broad ribcage even when lying down and then all the way down to the round curve of his belly.

Making good on his promise to touch, stroke, kiss, lick, and worship Derek’s flesh he does just that, trying to reach every inch he can in this position. His erection is rock hard and demanding attention, but this is about Derek and he is grateful for all the masturbation practice, sure that he would have come already otherwise. He lets go of Derek’s hands so he can move lower, nosing along the soft hairs of his happy trail and making a tut-tut sound when he sees the angry red line on his boyfriend’s skin where the waistband of his jeans has shifted a bit. These jeans are definitely too tight, struggling to contain both his stomach and Derek’s erection and Stiles decides that this just won’t do.

His hands hover over the button, his eyes moving up to search Derek’s and Derek breaths in deeply before nodding his consent. Stiles has a little bit of difficulty popping the button – way too tight, he needs to take Derek jeans-shopping, which also has the added bonus that he can get his boyfriend to model in front of him for hours – and when he finally gets them open he immediately kisses and licks along the red line on Derek’s skin, wanting to make him feel better because it looks almost painful. He pushes the tight jeans down over Derek’s big, muscular thighs and Derek reaches out his hands to help him, lifting himself up a little in the process so he is half-sitting as he kicks the jeans off. In this position Stiles definitely notices the rolls around his waist that Derek normally camouflages with his shirts and it’s just about the cutest thing he has ever seen. He can’t help himself and bites down onto the thickest one gently, his hands sliding around Derek’s waist to stroke his lower back.

For all his insecurities about his stomach, it seems to be one of Derek’s most erogenous zones as well and he groans loudly, a dark patch of pre-come staining his boxer-briefs. Stiles doesn’t want Derek to feel naked in front of him so he quickly straightens and tugs his shirt over his head, lifting his hips so he can push down his jeans and finally freeing his erection from its confinement. Derek swallows when he sees the way Stiles’ boxers are tented and Stiles nods with satisfaction, glad that Derek seems to have understood just how attractive he is to Stiles.

He is not ashamed to admit that his mouth almost waters at the sight of Derek’s erect dick poking out under the waistband of his briefs and suddenly he is a little scared that they might be going too fast, seeing how they just essentially upgraded their intimacy level from french-kissing and some clothed groping to being almost naked and touching everywhere. He is half out of his mind with arousal and feels like he’s in way over his head when Derek decides to take action and grabs Stiles’ hand, placing it upon his groin and pushing it against his dick.

“Touch me,” he whispers and Stiles is definitely not saying no to that. His fingers are shaking just a little when he pulls down Derek’s underwear and he sucks in his breath sharply when he sees that Derek’s uncut. He has never seen an uncut penis in real life and there will definitely be lots of experimentation to catalogue all the differences between his cut penis and Derek’s uncut one, complete with spreadsheets and charts; possibly even a shrine because Derek’s penis is a work of divine art and Stiles wants to worship at its altar. Well, he decides, worshipping at its base will do just fine for the moment and he wraps his hand around the pulsating length, his tongue trailing up and down experimentally, before he relaxes his jaw and takes as much of Derek into his mouth as he can.

Despite lots of practice with a banana – which was quite awkward when he accidentally almost choked on one two weeks ago and his Dad had to perform the Heimlich maneuver – he barely manages to take in half of Derek’s length before his eyes begin to water. Stiles has a relatively large dick of average girth and he just expected Derek to be built the same way, but Derek, while a bit shorter, is much thicker than he is and he probably should have practiced with a cucumber as well. He can’t quite make it to the base of Derek’s shaft, but judging by the way Derek is moaning above him and the way the muscles of his thighs twitch below him, he is a doing good enough job as it is without managing the perfect deep-throat on the first try.

His own erection is straining against his stomach painfully and he wants to make love to Derek desperately, but again, they are probably moving fast enough as it is. Unless Derek wants him to; yes, he should definitely make sure where Derek stands on the subject before jumping to conclusions – they’ve both done enough of that as it is already.

He lets go of Derek’s penis with an obscene sounding pop and watches with delight how the spit-slick member bounces against Derek’s chubby stomach. Derek is breathing heavily and Stiles trails his fingers down the inside of Derek’s thighs until he’s reached his butt cheeks. He’s careful not to come too close to Derek’s hole, not wanting to seem like he’s pushing for something, but Derek seems to sense what he is asking. He bites his lip and spreads his legs further, sucking his index finger into his mouth and then reaching down his hand past Stiles’. Stiles almost comes the moment Derek’s finger begins to circle his hole and he slams his eyes shut, forcing himself to control his breathing. Derek can’t just do shit like that without warning, Stiles’ self-control is great, but not _that_ great.

Derek lifts his upper body so he can pull Stiles in for a kiss and Stiles is so turned on he can’t even concentrate on kissing, his mouth slack and hanging open as he pants against Derek’s lips harshly.

“Do you want me to …” he gets out, unsure of how to finish the sentence.

Make love to you suddenly sounds too corny and fuck you sounds way too crass for their first time and Derek smiles against his mouth, relaxing under him so that his stomach pushes up against Stiles’ further.

“Need you to,” he whispers and Stiles feels a spurt of pre-come leak down his penis at the words.

“Ok,” he says, his voice shaking just the tiniest bit, careful to keep his dick from touching any part of Derek – and accidentally coming before they’ve even started – as he leans over to grab the lube and condom out of his nightstand.

Derek seems to know what he’s doing down there and so Stiles trusts him to take care of the lube part. Maybe later, when he’s not so far gone, Derek can show him how to prepare him properly and maybe he will even want to do it to Stiles, but right now it takes all his concentration not to come while he’s rolling the condom over his straining shaft.

He desperately wants to look but his self-control is all but gone and so he throws his head back and breaths in deeply, fingers digging into his thighs to keep from touching Derek.

“How do you want me to do this?” he asks when Derek puts the lube away and Derek thinks for a second before signaling for Stiles to move away from his legs so he can get on all fours. It’s probably easier this way, but the sight of Derek presenting his round butt towards him like that nearly proves to be Stiles’ undoing. Also, he has a tattoo between his shoulder blades and how come Stiles never knew that about him? He will ask later, but right now he just prays that this will last more than one thrust when he positions himself behind Derek’s legs, pinching the base of his dick and aligning himself. He thinks of Coach Finstock in a pink tutu when he slowly pushes in, because the tight heat around him is just so much better than he ever anticipated. When he bottoms out he rocks his hips experimentally and Derek arches his back against him with a low moan. Needing something to hold on to, Stiles wraps his arms around Derek’s thick midsection, his fingers digging into his soft belly and he thrusts again, aware that sweat is dripping down his nose and unto Derek’s broad back, glistening against the black ink on his skin. For a moment he almost panics when he realizes he has completely forgotten which angle is supposed to guarantee direct prostate stimulation but then Derek clenches around him and he forgets all about it. He manages three more thrusts, each one more frantic than the last, his fingers digging into Derek’s flesh so hard he’s probably going to leave a bruise, and then he’s coming harder than he has ever come before. When he’s done he pretty much collapses on top of Derek, helplessly trying to catch his breath, and Derek’s footballer physique and strength definitely come in handy now, because he can effortlessly carry his weight.

Mindlessly, Stiles’ hands move up and down Derek’s stomach, stroking him everywhere and his mind goes blank for a moment when he brushes against Derek’s straining erection. Holy shit, he’s completely forgotten about Derek’s orgasm. He pulls out and pushes himself up with determination, nudging against Derek’s thighs so he opens them wider. Derek does and Stiles drops onto his back and wiggles in between Derek’s legs. He reaches up to grasp Derek’s ass and pushes him down towards his face, opening his mouth so he can engulf the rock-hard erection. There’s still enough lube that Stiles feels confident enough to circle Derek’s hole, pushing in one of his long fingers. If he didn’t have Derek’s penis in his mouth he would scream victory when his finger finds Derek’s prostate purely on accident and Derek lets out a tiny howl, before stiffening and shooting his relief down his throat. Stiles wasn’t prepared for Derek to come so quickly and some of the semen trickles out of his mouth and down his chin. Derek’s arms are shaking and he slumps down a little, his belly squishing against Stiles’ face and Stiles enjoys the soft warmth and the smell of his boyfriend for as long as he can. However, he still has Derek’s dick in his mouth and he regrettably needs to breathe at some point, so he grabs Derek’s hips and pushes him up, enough so that his spent dick drops out of Stiles’ mouth and Stiles can maneuver his pliant body down so he is covering Stiles completely. Derek’s face is pressed into the crook of Stiles’ neck and he enjoys the way Derek’s heavier body pushes him down into the mattress. His fingers are tracing circles along Derek’s back, presumably where the tattoo is, Stiles isn’t sure, and when Derek tries to move away from Stiles he flattens his palms against his shoulders to keep him where he is.

“Too heavy for you,” Derek mumbles and Stiles shakes his head.

“Perfect for me,” he declares and strains his neck to capture Derek’s lips in a kiss. Derek stills against him and Stiles winces, suddenly remembering that he still has Derek’s come all over his lips and chin and Derek probably isn’t into that, but then his boyfriend’s tongue darts out and licks him clean and oh, Derek is definitely into that.

He can tell that Derek is trying to lift some of his weight off of Stiles and the younger boy sighs, because Derek apparently needs more convincing until he let’s go of his stupid complex. But that’s ok, they have time, so Stiles decides to compromise, his hand pushing against Derek’s shoulder so they can roll onto their sides facing each other. Derek really is quite heavy and Stiles probably wouldn’t have been able to push him off of him on his own but he finds that extremely exciting, his limp dick twitching experimentally when he imagines Derek pinning him down into the mattress and thrusting into him, his round stomach pushing against the small of Stiles’ back. That’s definitely a good idea for next time, but he should probably make sure that Derek wants there to be a next time first before planning out an entire choreography.

Derek’s head is propped up on his elbow and his other hand is draped over his stomach, probably in an attempt to hide how the sideways position has it pooling out onto the sheets and seeming slightly larger. Stiles has no patience for that nonsense and he swats the hand away playfully, cuddling up to Derek so that his face is pressed against Derek’s chest and his midsection is molded around Derek’s soft belly, their legs tangled.

He is not going to ask “Was it as good for you as it was for me,” he really isn’t, he promised himself he wouldn’t. But he is brimming with questions and he just can’t help himself.

“Did you … like it?” he asks and Derek laughs softly.

“Obviously,” he says.

“Really? It … didn’t last very long.”

“So?”

“And I’m pretty sure I only found your prostate on accident.”

“So?”

“I also have to practice the deep-throating thing some more.”

“So?”

Stiles raises his eyebrows.

“Are you only going to answer ‘so’ to everything I say?”

Derek chuckles.

“Isn’t that what you were doing outside when you thought I was saying stupid things?”

“Yes but …”

“Then why am I not allowed to do the same?”

Stiles pauses. Derek has a pretty good point there.

He hums contentedly and inches even closer to Derek, not willing to let go of him just yet.

“I’m going to see you naked more often from now on, ok?”

“That’s fine,” Derek says after a small pause, smile evident in his voice.

“And you are going to stop hiding your body from me, right?” Stiles pushes further and Derek sighs.

“I’ll try,” he promises, but he doesn’t sound too confident.

“You better – or else I’ll definitely sign you up as a naked model for those art classes, so people can paint magnificent pictures of you and you can finally see how gorgeous you are with your own eyes.”

Derek’s entire body shakes with suppressed laughter and he smacks Stiles’ butt playfully.

“How about you paint a picture of me instead, after all, it really shouldn’t matter to me what others think, right?”

Stiles nods enthusiastically. “Right! I can do that.”

He throws a quick glance at his alarm clock and, upon seeing that his father probably won’t be home for at least another hour, he reaches for his tissues, gets rid of the condom and, when he’s cleaned up sufficiently, turns around so that his back is pressed against Derek’s front and closes his eyes with a contented sigh. Derek wraps his strong arms around him and as they doze off for their first post-coital nap together, Stiles can’t help but smile sleepily – Derek can be an idiot, but so can he, and their combined level of idiocy has just led to something absolutely amazing.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> I know I said I was going to write a sequel to the Body Shots series, but the image of Stiles and Derek in the diner popped into my head and demanded to be written first. So I did. (also, if anyone who can draw better than me wants to fan-art that in any way, please go ahead, it would make for an adorable picture I’m sure). 
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it. By the way, although this could be loosely categorized as a chubby kink fic, I did not tag this as chubby-kink for a reason. This story is essentially about Stiles loving Derek for who he is, regardless of what he looks like, and while I’m sure he could incorporate his appreciation for Derek’s weight into his general Derek-Kink, this was not the main point of this story.


End file.
